


I Never Wanted This

by Char_the_Fireborn



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adopted Sibling Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Nonbinary Character, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Char_the_Fireborn/pseuds/Char_the_Fireborn
Summary: One of them never wanted to be a ruler.The other never wanted to be a hero.But life has a way of making people into things they don't want to be.(In which a former dock worker accidentally becomes the Dragonborn, falls in love with a queen, and hopefully saves the world.)





	1. A Beautiful Morning

“C’mon, Vaara! Up and at ‘em!” My little sibling, Vel, is far more energetic than anyone should be this early in the morning. I open my eyes and let out a small yelp - they’re crouched right in front of my bed, so the first thing I see is their grinning, freckled face. It’s usually sweet, but this close and first thing in the morning, it’s enough to make me jump out of my skin. Figuratively, of course. I did once hear a couple of guards saying that argonians actually shed their skin, which is ridiculous. I wonder how they even got that idea-  
“Vaara?” Vel repeats, an expression of concern spreading across their face. “Everything okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I say, getting out of my bed.  
Vel stands up, too, and holds out my work clothes. “Good, ‘cause we’re already late. Put these on and let’s go.”  
I do as they say, following them as they skip out to the docks. It’s a beautiful Sundas morning - well, as close to a beautiful morning as you can get near Windhelm. The sunrise has painted the sky in gentle shades of pink and orange, which reflect off the water and the icebergs in it, creating a warm pastel effect. Even the docks and the people on them seem somehow softer in this quiet morning light.  
"Ah, Shevaara and Vel! I knew you'd come out here eventually!" Scouts-Many-Marshes, who helped train me and is now training Vel in blacksmithing, has a wide grin on his face despite his teasing words.  
"I practically had to drag Vaara out of bed," Vel replies.  
I let out an exaggerated sigh, but I'm grinning too. "Alright, we've completed our mandatory daily tease-Shevaara session. Can we get to work now?"  
"Yes, that would probably be best." Scouts-Many-Marshes says. "Shevaara, do you think you can handle working with Vel for today? I agreed to work with Shavee on a complicated order of hers, and that'll take me all of today. Don't worry, though - I won't make you deal with Vel for any more than the project takes."  
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Vel yelps, and I suppress a laugh. Vel's notorious for getting distracted and royally messing up their work. Like that time they were supposed to fix a battered suit of armor and accidently slammed their work hammer directly into the center of the already-weakened breastplate, warping the metal and rendering the armor completely useless.  
"I think I'll manage," I say, drawing more protests from Vel, which I resolutely ignore.  
Vel starts working, humming a little jingle as they do. I join in, matching their tone at first, then beginning to harmonize. We go on like this, working and humming, for a little while. Then, Vel stops, and points into the water.  
“Look, Vaara. It’s a slaughterfish.”  
I look, and have to clench my teeth together to stop myself from shrieking. The slaughterfish is almost twice as large as the salmon I once tried to catch when Vel was sick and couldn’t work. Its sharp, jagged teeth stick out of its oddly long mouth at unnatural angles, and its too-large, cloudy eyes stare soullessly at me and Vel.  
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Vel whispers, their tone awed. Again, their voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I remember where I am and who I’m with. Vel adores dangerous creatures. Their most treasured possession is their copy of The Deadly Beasts of Skyrim, and their journal is filled with sketches of mammoths, trolls, and even chaurus. Of course, Vel has never actually seen any of these creatures, which is probably for the best; they’d probably get slaughtered the second they stepped within the line of sight of anything half as dangerous as a mammoth.  
The slaughterfish swims away, much to my relief, but the relative peace it leaves behind is cleaved apart by a thunderous roar, louder than anything I’ve ever heard. I look around, searching for whatever could have made a sound like that, but I don’t see anything. Vel is uncharacteristically silent, and I turn towards them to ask why.  
Then I see it.  
It’s large enough to swallow a full-grown orc whole. Its scales are thick, sharp-edged, and black as coal. Powerful leathery wings extend from its shoulders, propelling it forward, and the claws on the ends of its four strong legs are as sharp as an executioner’s axe.  
And, worst of all, it’s headed directly towards me and Vel.  
I pull Vel towards me, backing up although I know there's nowhere to go. The other workers start to notice the… the thing flying towards us, and immediately abandon their work and start running. Problem is, there's no good place to run. The argonian assemblage is locked during the day, and the East Empire Company is closed, and therefore also locked, every Sundas. There's the strip of land that leads around the city walls and onto the mainland, but that's thin and icy and makes you an easy target. So Vel and I can't go any of those ways.  
That only leaves us one option.  
As the dragon exhales a blast of fire onto someone I can only hope isn't Scouts-Many-Marshes, I take Vel's hand and run towards the edge of the dock. Vel runs with me, unsure of what's happening but trusting me to lead them to safety. I'd rather die than betray that trust. And if this plan of mine goes wrong, that could easily happen. But I don't have any other choice.  
So, ignoring my rapidly growing panic, and gripping Vel's hand as tightly as I can, I leap off the docks and into the ice-cold water.


	2. A Relaxing Swim

The instant the water touches my scales, I remember why I never went diving for salmon unless I absolutely had to. Calling this water cold would be like calling the war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks a minor disagreement. But the alternative is fighting a dragon, which, if any of the legends I heard as a child are even close to true, is tatamount to suicide.  
I force myself to swim forward, my grip on Vel still strong. My limbs feel heavy, and my fingertips are already beginning to numb - not a good sign. Above the surface of the water, the dragon roars, and a burst of flame broils the water above me. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Vel’s trying to swim to the surface. I shake my head frantically, and Vel gestures towards their neck… no, towards their gills, if they had them.  
Several different curses escape my mouth, only to be caught in the freezing water. Of course Vel can’t breathe underwater. They’re a dunmer, for the Divines’ sakes. I look up, making sure the dragon isn’t about to scorch our heads off, and, seeing that the sky is clear, swim upward as quickly as I can. Vel does their best to keep pace, surfacing with a gasp and breathing heavily. I look around, but there’s no sign of the dragon. We don’t have time to worry if it might come back.  
Vel and I force our aching limbs to propel us forwards for what seems like forever. When we haven’t heard or seen the dragon for what must be at least an hour, and, more importantly, when we’re too exhausted to swim any further, Vel and I flounder our way to the nearest shore. By the time we get there, we’re both frostbitten and extremely exhausted, and we’re far enough from Windhelm that it’s nothing more than a hulking gray mass in the distance. For a few moments, we lie on the ground, panting.  
Vel breaks the silence. “What… what are we supposed to do now?”  
The question catches me off guard, though there’s no reason it should. Vel always jumps to our next course of action immediately, and bottles up their emotions until later. I’m not sure if it’s the healthiest way of dealing with problems, but it’s a clear question, and, more importantly, it’s normal. Nothing about this situation is normal, and although Vel’s and my normal certainly wasn’t ideal, it was thousands of times better than this. Freezing cold, completely lost, no clue what to do next - oh, and there’s the slight issue of the enormous, deadly dragon that could still attack us at any moment.  
I flick my tongue between my teeth (a nervous tic of mine). “Well, first off, we make a fire. Both of us need the heat, and who knows? A traveller might see it and help us out.”  
That’s wishful thinking. Both Vel and I know it. I didn’t exactly get around much before today, but something tells me the frozen wasteland that is Eastmarch isn’t exactly a tourist destination. The only people I’ve seen cross the bridge into Windhelm are nords looking to join the Stormcloaks, and those sorts of people aren’t usually fond of dunmer. Or argonians, for that matter.  
But if we give up hope now, we’re never going to survive this. I use the tanning knife I strapped to my waist to chop some thinner branches off of trees; I’m not exactly an expert on woodcutting, but I somehow doubt that my knife will be able to cut down an entire tree. Not to mention how difficult it would be to cut it up and make a fire.  
While I chop branches, Vel gathers leaves, bark, and other tinder. Before long, we’ve built a small pile of fuel. Now our only problem is lighting the fire.  
“I could try to find flint, or maybe that bow-and-stake technique… wait, what are you doing?” I ask. Vel is crouched over the pile, reaching one long-fingered hand out to touch the leaves on top of the pile. Then, something incredible happens.  
The tips of Vel’s fingers begin glowing with a warm, white-yellow light. As their fingers brush the dried leaves, they catch on fire, and that fire spreads to the rest of the pile. Soon, a small fire is roaring in the center of our makeshift camp.  
Immediately, I realize how much I need this warmth. My hands and feet are completely numb, not to mention my face. I let Vel lean over the fire first, though. I’ve been protecting them for as long as I can remember, and I’m not going to stop now.  
When I first saw Vel, they were five, and I was fourteen. Their mother had died, and there wasn’t anyone in the city charitable enough to help a dunmer, even if that dunmer was an innocent child who would die if nobody helped them. Even the orphanage in Riften wasn’t an option - the woman who runs it didn’t take in dunmer. So, with no other options, Vel came to the docks. Most argonians aren’t very fond of dunmer, and for good reason, but we’re not heartless. I was the first one to suggest Vel stay in the argonian assemblage, and even though a few of the others weren’t keen on the idea at first, they warmed up to Vel as time went by. Eventually, Vel became an unofficial member of the argonian assemblage, and by the time they were ten, even the coldest workers in the assemblage saw them as one of their own.  
But now, I don’t know if any of the people who helped me raise Vel are alive. Shavee, who always looked on the bright side, even when there was no bright side. Stands-In-Shallows, who was battling an addiction to alcohol - a battle which, now, they might never have the chance to win. And, of course, Scouts-Many-Marshes. He taught me everything I know, and not only about smithing. I was dropped off on the docks of Windhelm as an egg. The entire argonian assemblage took me in, but it was Scouts-Many-Marshes who raised me.  
And now Vel and I, both children of the docks, both raised by people who may all be dead, are lost alone in the wilderness.  
My mind going back to reality, I look over at Vel. They, like me, are lost in thought. I consider asking them about the fire they held in their hands, but push the thought aside. If Vel wanted to talk about it, they’d start the conversation.  
But they don’t. Instead, they say softly, “I wish Marsh was here.”  
Marsh is our nickname for Scouts-Many-Marshes. I place a hand on Vel’s shoulder, and they turn to the fire, watching the flames dance around the now-scorched branches and leaves.  
My voice is just as soft as Vel’s, but it’s determined. “I miss him, too. But we’re going to get back to civilization, and we’re going to see him again. I promise.”  
I have no business making a promise like that, and Vel knows it. Right now, though, what Vel needs - what we both need - is certainty that everything is going to be all right.  
The alternative is too painful to consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it so far! There was a bit of an exposition dump in this chapter, so I'm sorry about that. And Elisif will show up soon, but the characters need to actually get to Solitude before that can happen :p
> 
> Again, thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on, and reading, this story! I'll try to update it around once a week, but that might not always work out, so please be patient. If you have any questions about the characters or plot, feel free to ask!


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